Hide and Seek

Casey'd pitched me two out of three.

There was a great urge to say fuck this and light a match. I crushed

it between gritted teeth.

When I stopped trembling, I moved on.

I was trying to remember whether the clock was to the left or the

right, but I couldn't. There had been too much junk there. It numbed

the mind. I'd have to do it slowly, by feel mostly. Finally I reached

the wall. In front of me was a small plow- at least I thought it was a

plow. I felt like one of the old blind men with the elephant in that

proverb. ("This here's an anaconda.") But I was pretty sure I had it

right.

As I moved to the left, my foot scraped a bucket of some kind. I

reached down into it and felt a dusty old belt buckle. There were

other pails too. Nails, window fittings. I was beginning to remember.

If I'd been able to muster the patience, I knew my eyes would

eventually adjust even to this level of darkness. But that spider had

unnerved me.

Memory told me the clock was in this direction. The whole big mound of

stuff was to my right. So the clock was left. I kept going.

I leaned toward the wall and felt it with the palms of my hands. The

tines of a garden rake. Beside it, as hovel I scraped along slowly

There was a tenpenny masonry nail in the cement and, dangling from it,

a big brass key. Something that felt like a birdcage beside it.

Horseshoes. Another shovel. A whip. The wall felt cold, rough and

slimy.

The breeze was stronger here.

I kicked something hard and metallic, felt it slide away a little. I

edged toward it and bent down.

The washtub.

I remembered the washtub. It had been propped up right beside the

clock. Now it was down, resting on its base. But that meant the

Right here.

I could even see its outlines now. I reached for it.

The cabinet doors were open.

Inside, it was empty.